I don’t know if it’s sleep deprivation or a divine light shining down through the windows of the Triple Rock Baptist Church at Jake Blues, but I had a powerful dream last night that woke me up rich in peculiarity.
As the reader has become aware, I hit the bathroom at 2 a.m. Tonight, as happens on occasion, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so lay awake until 4 a.m. when nature called yet again. Sleep was fleeting after that, but eventually I did nod off, and at that point I slept hard. I awoke in what felt like seconds later, weirded out by the intense imagery I had just witnessed:
Michelle at the wheel, she and I pulled into the parking lot of some unidentified country cemetery in the evening. The sun was preparing to set on the day, and it was gorgeous. The orange, pink and purple sky was spectacular. And so was the cemetery. The gravestones where big, rich, beautiful. And so I pounced from the car with my camera in hand working quickly to combine the sky and the right monument into a beautiful photograph. I hurried, I stumbled, I trounced over the top of graves in a reckless fashion.
Clicking fast, I kept working and reworking the scene. I noticed a spectacular stone tomb, dead center. It was the size of a small garage and inside its opening I could see an amazing monument, so I rushed forward, shooting like mad. Inside, captivated by the elaborate stonework, I rushed to the center for a closer look.
Zap! An intense shock shook my chakras to their very foundations. I hit the ground. The electrical buzz held me down and I struggled to reach my feet, unsuccessful. Michelle arrived, thinking I’d simply fallen, not paying attention in an alarmed fashion. Instead, she began reading from a placard next to the central tomb. This was holy, holy space, the burial site of saints and more.
Slowly, I reached my feet, still vibrating and now sounding Michelle’s alarm, as something was clearly wrong. At about this same time, a busload of children unloaded and invaded the graveyard with the same level of glee that I had done. They poured past my half-upright frame toward the central stone I had approached, and I called out to stop so they would not face the same consequence, still unsure what had happened.
They touched, maneuvered and crawled over the entire structure without incident. My tenseness relented when I saw that they were not stricken to the ground. I tried to explain to Michelle what had happened, to make sense of it, with little success. I was breathing hard and couldn’t put words to it. Electricity still vibrated in my extremities.
I gave up for the moment to compose myself and turned around to find no children and no central monument. It was blank. Vanished. And the sun was setting.
And then I awoke, with a slightly vibrating, labored breathing.
Children are innocent, and that protected them from God’s powerful discipline. I, however, knew how to act in a graveyard, in a sacred place. To get the amazing photo, I had ignored that law and been reprimanded. When you know, I believe, you are held to a higher standard. And I had just been reminded.
Perhaps this is my only true revelation, my only wisdom to share. This weird dream near the end of my weeks’ long search for something big.